Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. I had to sell out, you see, when my father died, for the estate is in my hands. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. And in the Avenue she had an encounter with Ramage. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. Before a month has elapsed, your mother will be mine.
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